


This is the Culmination of All Our Suffering (Slightly Edited)

by HereInTheLaterNow



Series: It's Never Easy, Is It? [2]
Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hickeys, Insecurity, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Multi, Other, Overworking, Philosophy, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Short & Sweet, Short Story, The L Word - Freeform, The Silent Disco Club sequel you didn't ask for or want, Unhappy Ending, but like in large air quotes, ok you don't HATE him but you're annoyed by him, you hate arlo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereInTheLaterNow/pseuds/HereInTheLaterNow
Summary: "There is a hole and I tried to fill up with money, money, money.But it gets bigger 'til your hopes is alwaysRunning, running, running." - Animal by Miike Snow.Originally a one-shot songfic turned into an angsty, smutty romance about the vices of capitalism, anxiety, failed expectations, overworking, insecurities, fear of commitment, and the troubles of the world. Short story/short chapters.
Relationships: Builder & Arlo (My Time At Portia), Builder & Django (My Time At Portia), Builder/Higgins (My Time At Portia), Higgins & Arlo (My Time At Portia)
Series: It's Never Easy, Is It? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713430
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Animal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Risuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risuu/gifts).



> It's a sequel but I'll be damned if I make it easy. You gotta earn the d.  
> Each chapter (written so far) is around 500 to 1000 words each, I think I'll stick to that format.

> "I change shapes just to hide in this place but I'm still, I'm still an animal.  
>  Nobody knows it but me when I slip, yeah I slip,  
>  I'm still an animal." -Animal by Miike Snow.

* * *

He chuckled lightly, his hand protectively nursing an amber liquor strong enough for you to smell it from the safe distance you were from him. The redhead with him laughed as well. A semi-drunken, friendly sort of laugh. You clicked your tongue at the two, passing him without so much as a glance in his direction. You sat down at the bar a distance from them and waved Django down.

"You still hate each other, huh?" Arlo tried to whisper. Stupid idiot.

You noticed his back muscles tense, he was silent for far too long before he came up with a reasonable excuse. "We're rivals, I'll let you decide for yourself."

Of course, he'd dance around the question like that.

Django stepped up to you with a cocked brow. He had learned what your distressed face looked like a long time ago. "Can I get you something? A drink, a meal, a sword?" His eyes darted over to Higgins.

You smiled at him. "I'll take water, but keep the sword option just in case."

"You know," Django shot a cheeky smile at you as he reached for a glass. "I never understood what he was about."

"I don't know what he's about either if I'm going to be honest."

"You slept with him?" He pushed the glass toward you.

You almost missed it as you gasped in surprise. "How did you-?"

"I know everything."

"Stalker. We didn't go all the way. He's not ready for that."

Django cocked his brow yet again, hand on the bar this time as he leaned toward you. "He's a grown man. Don't go raising a man, my mother always said, he needs to figure it out for himself."

You downed the drink in one gulp. "Thanks for the advice, you know I always appreciate it."

He waved you off with a knowing smile as he watched Higgins set his drink down, whisper something to Arlo, and run towards the door. He muttered something about love fools as he wiped his handprint off his bar.

You were barely past the entrance to the park before he caught up to you. To be so short he was so fast.

"What the fuck was that?" He asked you. You took his arm, looked around carefully, and pulled him into the entrance to the park. The area where the outside sermon was held when it rained.

"The fuck was what? Like you'd ever talk to me in public. Don't forget you're supposed to be ashamed of me."

"I am not ashamed. I just don't think I should go around town exclaiming that I'm seeing my rival."

"Oh, here we go. Cut the rival shit. We are no competition, you know it, I know it, Presley knows it, half of fucking Sandrock knows it."

"That's what you resort to when you're mad? Insults?" He leered at you. You could feel the heat rushing through your body at his gaze.

"Higgins, what does 'seeing your rival' even mean?"

"Well," he faltered.

"That's what I thought, Higgins, we're done," you turned away.

"Done? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean. Don't think about it too much," you stepped back from him.

"Don't walk away from me."

You scoffed as you turned around. In a moment of...well, who knows what went through his head as he did it, he was as easy to read as a book submerged in marmalade, he grabbed your arm and pinned you to the wall. The back of your head smacked against the concrete as he pressed his lips to yours in a frenzy.

"Fuck!" You groaned as you pulled away from him but you were smiling, the hint of a laugh in your voice.

All of this. It was ridiculous. You burst out into laughter, he stared at you with concern, yet there was something to it. He shyly broke out into a smile that evolved into cautious chuckles. You did not want to face the next morning, yet eventually, the laughter died down and you walked home alone.


	2. All Eyes on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Handjob scene!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short? I'm going to have longer smut scenes later.

"'Cause I hope,  
We will never have to take back,  
What we said in the night,  
I hope that I will always have,  
All eyes on you." - All Eyes on You by St. Lucia

* * *

Logically, yes, it makes sense that Portia is constantly humid well into the year, he could walk to the ocean in 15 minutes, that didn't stop his strong disdain for the sticky, stifling heat. That's why overcast days were his favorite and today was the perfect day for him. A grey, gorgeous, chilly, rainy fall Thursday.

The commission's board was empty, it wasn't like it never got empty, but he was always there first or at the very least second to have his fair share. He had finished everything he had to do, wandered around and created new things to do, cleaned everything in his workshop from head to toe, and when he was finished it was barely ten past one. For once he cursed himself for waking up early. He stared at the inside of his clean workshop. He grabbed a dark overcoat and his keys and left.

That's what prompted him to be where he was now, sitting by the seaside, his legs over the dock. He loved the rare times he got to break, even if he hated them. The problem was he had no idea what to do with himself. He thumbed the buttons of his jacket, his dark brown eyes glossed over from lack of focus. It was a nice, overcast, calm, thoughtless, workless day.

"What are you doing here?" He heard behind him, he didn't bother turning around. He heard the footsteps, the ruffle of clothes, then he felt a warmth right next to him. He could almost fall into your arms right then and there, but you were not his. He snuck a glance at you but your eyes were on the ocean. A storm was coming, maybe even a tropical storm. Hopefully, it would dissipate before it got to Portia. That didn't seem likely, however.

"Hurricane?" You wondered.

"Hm? Oh, don't speak that into existence," Higgins finally replied.

He turned to you. Oh, dear Lord, you looked directly into his eyes. Oh, but you weren't fully his, and yet he didn't mind that when he was looking at you. He didn't mind when you were around him and he was starting to mind it less in public. You leaned in with a huff, your lips against his. A chaste kiss, both of your lips slightly chapped and your breaths stilted. He would ruin you. He was abusing the very thing that made you hate him in the first place, changing it, altering it to fit his needs. Hate no more. Hate no more.

Love, yes love was truly all you needed at that moment. Even if lust had to find their way into the mix. Even if your hands were at his belt in an instant. He needed to know how you felt. He needed to—you fumbled with his belt buckle, frustratedly unzipping his pants—he needed a release. You both did. You didn't want him in bed, not yet, for that was the promise of two lovers. You weren't lovers.

"What are you doing?"

You looked into his eyes, pleading with your own, this was the calmest he'd ever be. You needed him to feel what you could offer him. He leaned back on the palms of his hands, intrigued, he couldn't hide it. You freed his cock from his pants, you didn't look down, if you did you'd take him at that moment, that was a lover's promise, not yet. He seemed to share your same sentiment, his eyes were on you. A smile played at his lips, what was going through that man's head.

You could feel him in the palm of your hands, you could blindly make out the shape, a stray vein, the tickle of hair near the base. You did not look down. He wanted you to look away, at least that's what you told yourself. You reached in your pocket, a small bottle of lube, he looked away for a second, pleasantly surprised.

"Did you plan this?"

You shook your head. It was more like you hoped for an opportunity rather than you planned it. You could feel the cold, water-based lube slip through your fingers onto the dock. You couldn't look down at this point, you were far too embarrassed. His breath hitched when you finally gripped him. He was semi-hard but fully aroused. You didn't even know if it was just sexually. He stared at you like you were a puzzle he was just starting to solve.

You dragged you hand up and down him, staring him down, waiting for the moment he breaks his facade. He just smiled though. Amused. You couldn't help but smile back. He leaned forward and pecked you on the lips once more.

What were you supposed to do with that?

Your pace quickened. Your thumb gently massaged the tip. Did he gasp? Moan? It was an odd sound but one you wished to hear every day. You worked him up to the edge, those moan-like gasps growing more frequent until he shuddered and came. You looked down, proud of your work. Surprisingly, his cum did not get on the docks, but the two of you would have to take an alternative route home. You finally snapped yourself from your daze, looked back up at him, and claimed his lips once more.

Oh, you wondered what he thought of you more than ever now.


	3. Lovefool (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a little taste. Part 2 is MUCH worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing is a bitch

> "Love me love me,  
>  Say that you love me.  
>  Fool me fool me,  
>  Go on and fool me.  
>  Love me love me,  
>  Pretend that you love me." - Lovefool by The Cardigans.

* * *

"You know it's not fair," he looked to you. He was pacing his workshop, you lounged on his couch.

Looking for what was beyond you. Then again a lot of things lately were beyond you. He was oddly sober too, not that he ever got drunk. He didn't have the mind to do it, not in front of you. What were you supposed to tell this man? That he was wrong to feel the way he felt. He wasn't. He was right. He was right. For once, possibly only once, he was right, and he would hold onto it with the fervor of a desperate man. A desperate man he was.

Yes. That question, the one from before. What were you supposed to tell him? That was a good question.

"Yes, I do."

"They lied to you. Had you believe I was the villain."

"They who? Gale? Presley?"

"Especially fucking Presley. Isn't it such a coincidence, every time there was a new project Gale had _just_ approved it?"

You looked away. He was seething and you could feel it even from a distance. "I knew it seemed...convenient."

"Oh, haha, you knew didn't you?"

You turned to him, feeling the anger swell in you as well. "Don't take that tone with me, you think I knew? Don't go burning all your bridges."

He stepped towards you, hesitant steps, unlike him, he usually stretched those short legs as much as he could. He leaned over you. "Why did you come here to Portia?"

You looked down. "I said it already. Portia was my way out."

"Did you have people who cared about you? Where you came from?"

"I uh, yeah."

"I haven't seen my mother in a few years now. She sends me letters every week though," he raised his finger in realization and ran to a corner in his room. He returned to you with a large box, crinkled letters practically spilled over the top.

He plucked one from the top. "The most recent letter I sent to her was about you."

You blushed. "Was it good?"

He cocked a brow. He folded the letter in his hands to show the bottom half and showed it to you.

You took it with hesitant hands and quietly read.

_'It sounds like you've got somebody who cares about you. Keep them. You don't wanna burn all your bridges.'_

You could hear the country accent permeating from the paper. You smiled at him. "She sounds lovely."

He took the letter from you and returned the box. "Gale isn't so bad. He sends us money occasionally. He never did trust me with big projects though."

"I trust you. You're a smart businessman."

"You sound like her now," he laughed bitterly.

"It isn't fair. That bastard kid of his walks around like he's better than the rest of us. We all can't afford private school and college."

"Hm? Oh yeah, Gale's kid. He's got problems. We all do."

"Doesn't give him a reason to be a dick."

You nodded. "It doesn't."

You picked at the armrest of his couch. "You're in a better mood."

He sneered at you. "Yeah, yeah. Don't you have a job?"

"That I do," you stood up. "I'll be back later."

He looked up at you, almost hurt. What did he expect? You rolled your eyes at him and pecked him on the cheek. "Later. You can make it until later?"

"I can make it until later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love gust but fuck that boy


	4. Lovefool (pt. 2a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For one night? Can you pretend? Can you do that? Can you pretend that everything's alright?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This includes smut with a gender-neutral builder with MALE genitalia. SAD SMUT! SAD SMUT! SAD SMUT!

"Love me love me,  
Say that you love me.  
Fool me fool me,  
Go on and fool me.  
Love me love me,  
Pretend that you love me." - Lovefool by The Cardigans.

* * *

Warning: Descriptions of blood, injury, head trauma. 

* * *

You stumbled into his workshop with a sore hip from falling in the ruins, thinking about Higgins of course. He always met you at the door when you walked in. Always. Like clockwork. He was a man of routine. For the first few moments of entering his workshop, you simply assumed he was out, but then you realized you would've seen him if he had gone out. You stepped past his furnaces, the sounds of your footsteps eerily loud, the furnaces were still stocked. Very unlike him. You offered that he had gone running some errands or he was in the ruins, but he always left a note at the door. It was amazing how that entire thought process lasted a moment, maybe two, yet it felt like your entire world had slowed down.

No excuse could prepare you. How does one respond to this? How can you be prepared for this? How could something like this even happen? You blamed yourself, you knew you should've stayed, maybe checked on him, but Django's words rang in your ears like an omen more than advice.

How did this happen?

Again, those thoughts only lasted a second but dragged out forever. You eyed the smashed table, the shattered glass of what was it...bourbon? Intertwined with a thick, red substance. Blood. You couldn't dance around it even if you wanted to. You couldn't will yourself to look at that any longer. Then your eyes met him, his form.

He wasn't dead, that wasn't just you fooling yourself, you could see him breathing; sprawled out on the ground, under the remains of a table you felt weirdly nostalgic over, near a shattered bottle of some liquor, bleeding profusely from a gash near his hairline. You couldn't tell if the alcohol made it look like there was less blood or more blood. There was no way he got drunk and hurt himself, you would not believe it. He was great, he was good, he was fine...

Oh, God.

Of course, Portia didn't have a fucking hospital. The Free Cities were useless, why even have a unified name if you insisted on having separate governments? What government could fund a hospital for Portia, because it damn sure wasn't it's own. The clinic was closed, Xu and Phyllis were asleep. You could go to Xu's house or the Civil Corps, you were sure that idiot Arlo was awake.

You knelt to turn him over and he stirred awake. He was always such a light sleeper. He blearily blinked up at you, then touched the spot on his head where the blood and liquor had matted his hair, and suddenly grimaced as the pain had only then set in.

"Higgins," you looked at him. Finally noticing the tears now soaking your shirt. How long had you been crying?

"What? What time is it?"

"Ten."

"Fuck! I have to empty the furnaces and refill them."

"Higgins. Ten at night."

"Oh." He looked down at the mess.

"What was that?" You pointed to the shattered bottle.

"Uh, bourbon, maybe rum? What does it matter?"

It was as you thought, and that was much worse than him just being blackout drunk.

"When was the last time you got some sleep?"

"Uh," he shook his head as if that would shake his memory awake. "Tuesday."

"Higgins, it's Saturday night."

He frowned. "You sound like Xu."

"Xu is the only person in Portia with half a brain."

"Her," he winced as he moved to sit up. "Her mortgage was due." He stood on wobbly legs, swaying to a breeze non-existent. You wanted to pull him back down but that would do more harm than good. You knew he was talking about his mother, how he loved that woman so. If you've ever felt jealousy it was now. Yet you wished to meet this woman, to love her as he does.

He staggered over to a dresser near his bed and ripped open a box. "Could you get me a towel?"

You were already up, rushing to soak a hand towel in warm water. When you returned he was leaning against his bed rail. You gently pressed the towel to the cut.

"I'm fine," he limply swatted your hand away.

"This isn't healthy," you argued as you ignored his hand.

"Arlo and Xu said the same thing." He sloppily bandaged his head. For a Builder, he had little knowledge in first aid.

"Don't compare me to Arlo."

He laughed, cradling his head as he did so. "Why do you hate him?"

You shrugged, "I don't hate him. That doesn't matter right now, what matters is you."

"You want me to stop supporting my mother?" He looked at you.

"Don't be fucking stupid," you hissed and immediately regretted it. Your nerves were sky-high and his proximity did nothing to alleviate them. "I want you to support yourself also."

He took your head into his hands, his calloused thumbs rubbed your cheeks. "I decided years back that I was going to live my life for my mother."

"Do you think she wants that?"

He looked like he had just been slapped. "What do you know about her wants?"

"I know that if she's half as important to you as you let on, then she's the most caring person in Portia and she'd want to see you healthy. We all do. Even Xu and Arlo and Antoine, who cares more about you than he lets on."

Your hands went up to cup his face also and he leaned into your touch. "Can you let me help at least? Me? The person you won't get rid of."

He looked away. "Listen, I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't think about it too much," you flashed him a grin. You knew he hated it when you used his own words against him.

"So, Higgins?" You waited for his answer. He pulled your hands away and pulled you into a deep kiss.

"I'm not in the right mind for those questions."

"Let's go get Xu."

"Not tonight, I'll go tomorrow."

"Higgins."

"Not tonight," he said more firmly. "I want you to stay the night."

"Higgins I-," you couldn't spend a night with him. That was what lovers did.

"For one night? Can you pretend? Can you do that? Can you pretend that everything's alright?"

You could pretend yes. You could pretend that you were lovers. "Yes, Higgins, I can."

Then his lips were on your neck, and you swore he was crying and you pretended that he was whispering sweet nothings to you. You'd listen to those sweet little lies all day long. Telling yourself that he loved you as you palmed yourself through your pants. Letting him drag you about his room. Lips shyly placed parted as subtle gasps slipped through freely.

His fingers were on your belt in an instant, but you weren't having that. He tried to control every aspect of his life, he had to learn that he couldn't control everything. You pushed him back on the bed, the surprise on his face nearly worth all the trouble.

There was a sense of guilt in the air. Who was using who? Was he taking advantage of your unwavering loyalty or were you taking advantage of his most primal needs to feed an illusion that you knew would come crashing down one day?

Was your cock all you could think about at that moment? Yes, the answer was yes. No fluff, no sarcasm or underlining messages. You wanted him to fuck you in the ass, you wanted everything to be okay for one night. You wanted to be the fool.

He was your weakness. You would scream it out if you had too.

"Get the lube, Higgins." You told him, unashamedly. You knew he had it. Sure enough, he opened a box similar to his first aid kit. He handed it to you, curiosity alight in his eyes. You set it to the side.

"Pants off, you want this so badly, huh, slut?" You took the hem of his pants and gave it one rough tug. "Then I'll give it to you, but don't start crying if your head hurts." You didn't mean that but it felt good to say.

You thought back to the time on the dock as you took his cock in your hands. How shy you were. Your hands were slippery with lube as you willingly gave him a handjob in public. He seemed so amused, compared to him now. Desperate, running from something, running right into you. You were knocked out of your thoughts to a breathy moan. Oh yeah.

"You can't uh—fuck—what do you think you're doing?"

"Uh? Topping you?" You bent down. Eye-level with his dick you licked your lips.

"You are not," he began but you licked up the side of him like a dripping ice cream cone.

"C-cockslut!" He cried but he was embarrassed and you finally understood why he loved to tease you so much. You could get used to this power.

You covered his cock with saliva, looking into his eyes and moaning while you did it, rutting your cock against his bedsheets. His hands were everywhere but on you.

You pulled off of him with an obscene noise that made you twitch against your stomach. "Fuck, Higgins, grab my hair."

"What?"

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your hair. "Come on, make me yours, you said you would that day you showed me you could dance. You fucked this girl didn't you, fuck me like her." You had fond memories of that day, he, on the other hand, seemed mortified, but he did as you said anyways.

You moaned on his dick, the vibration made his thighs quiver. You felt untouchable. Knocking this man down a few pegs was like directly injecting heroin into your bloodstream during a sugar rush.

His grip tightened and you made to lift off of him to praise him but he kept your head securely in place. He hesitated a moment and you gave him the thumbs up. Maybe that was a bad idea because he pulled you back slightly and then pulled you right back down until he was fucking your throat at a brutal pace. You gagged and he'd pull you off a second but then he'd return to using your throat once again. Your eyes watery and your mind swam with thoughts of doing this every day. You had forgotten that you had found him practically comatose not even an hour earlier.

You pinched his thigh and he let you go. You leaned back, fully erect and fully shameless as you looked him into his lust-glazed eyes.

"Prep me."

"Huh?" His eyes widened at the command.

You wiggled your butt at him playfully. "I'd like my hole to stay relatively intact after this."

His face was beyond red, and yours would be too if you hadn't been solely running on adrenaline since you walked in. Shame was a foreign concept when met with lust and frustration.

He hesitantly reached for the lube, you watched him like he was the prey and you...haha. It made you laugh.

He shyly fingered you, like he didn't think he was some sex god. He knew he had a way with the body. His confidence was half of what kept him going every day, the other half is pure ambition. It still felt nice to be treated like a porcelain doll, but you were here to be fucked, not make love.

His off and on confidence was frustrating you. "Come on, Higgins! Show me."

"Show you?"

"Show me."

You loved the feeling of the blankets rubbing your back as he fucked you. His hand around your throat made your vision swim but you couldn't care, even when you came so hard your arm locked around his body and you could feel him laughing into your neck as he came himself, biting into your collarbone.

"Fuck!" He mumbled. "I love you."

You could, however, care about that, because well...you honestly weren't expecting that.


	5. Lovefool (pt. 2b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For one night? Can you pretend? Can you do that? Can you pretend that everything's alright?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This includes smut with a gender-neutral builder with FEMALE genitalia. SAD SMUT! SAD SMUT! SAD SMUT!

"Love me love me,  
Say that you love me.  
Fool me fool me,  
Go on and fool me.  
Love me love me,  
Pretend that you love me." - Lovefool by The Cardigans.

* * *

Warning: Descriptions of blood, injury, head trauma.

* * *

You stumbled into his workshop with a sore hip from falling in the ruins, thinking about Higgins of course. He always met you at the door when you walked in. Always. Like clockwork. He was a man of routine. For the first few moments of entering his workshop, you simply assumed he was out, but then you realized you would've seen him if he had gone out. You stepped past his furnaces, the sounds of your footsteps eerily loud, the furnaces were still stocked. Very unlike him. You offered that he had gone running some errands or he was in the ruins, but he always left a note at the door. It was amazing how that entire thought process lasted a moment, maybe two, yet it felt like your entire world had slowed down.

No excuse could prepare you. How does one respond to this? How can you be prepared for this? How could something like this even happen? You blamed yourself, you knew you should've stayed, maybe checked on him, but Django's words rang in your ears like an omen more than advice.

How did this happen?

Again, those thoughts only lasted a second but dragged out forever. You eyed the smashed table, the shattered glass of what was it...bourbon? Intertwined with a thick, red substance. Blood. You couldn't dance around it even if you wanted to. You couldn't will your self to look at that any longer. Then your eyes met him, his form.

He wasn't dead, that wasn't just you fooling yourself, you could see him breathing; sprawled out on the ground, under the remains of a table you felt weirdly nostalgic over, near a shattered bottle of some liquor, bleeding profusely from a gash near his hairline. You couldn't tell if the alcohol made it look like there was less blood or more blood. There was no way he got drunk and hurt himself, you would not believe it. He was great, he was good, he was fine...

Oh, God.

Of course, Portia didn't have a fucking hospital. The Free Cities were useless, why even have a unified name if you insisted on having separate governments? What government could fund a hospital for Portia, because it damn sure wasn't it's own. The clinic was closed, Xu and Phyllis were asleep. You could go to Xu's house or the Civil Corps, you were sure that idiot Arlo was awake.

You knelt to turn him over and he stirred awake. He was always such a light sleeper. He blearily blinked up at you, then touched the spot on his head where the blood and liquor had matted his hair, and suddenly grimaced as the pain had only then set in.

"Higgins," you looked at him. Finally noticing the tears now soaking your shirt. How long had you been crying?

"What? What time is it?"

"Ten."

"Fuck! I have to empty the furnaces and refill them."

"Higgins. Ten at night."

"Oh." He looked down at the mess.

"What was that?" You pointed to the shattered bottle.

"Uh, bourbon, maybe rum? What does it matter?"

It was as you thought, and that was much worse than him just being blackout drunk.

"When was the last time you got some sleep?"

"Uh," he shook his head as if that would shake his memory awake. "Tuesday."

"Higgins, it's Saturday night."

He frowned. "You sound like Xu."

"Xu is the only person in Portia with half a brain."

"Her," he winced as he moved to sit up. "Her mortgage was due." He stood on wobbly legs, swaying to a breeze non-existent. You wanted to pull him back down but that would do more harm than good. You knew he was talking about his mother, how he loved that woman so. If you've ever felt jealousy it was now. Yet you wished to meet this woman, to love her as he does.

He staggered over to a dresser near his bed and ripped open a box. "Could you get me a towel?"

You were already up, rushing to soak a hand towel in warm water. When you returned he was leaning against his bed rail. You gently pressed the towel to the cut.

"I'm fine," he limply swatted your hand away.

"This isn't healthy," you argued as you ignored his hand.

"Arlo and Xu said the same thing." He sloppily bandaged his head. For a Builder, he had little knowledge in first aid.

"Don't compare me to Arlo."

He laughed, cradling his head as he did so. "Why do you hate him?"

You shrugged, "I don't hate him. That doesn't matter right now, what matters is you."

"You want me to stop supporting my mother?" He looked at you.

"Don't be fucking stupid," you hissed and immediately regretted it. Your nerves were sky-high and his proximity did nothing to alleviate them. "I want you to support yourself also."

He took your head into his hands, his calloused thumbs rubbed your cheeks. "I decided years back that I was going to live my life for my mother."

"Do you think she wants that?"

He looked like he had just been slapped. "What do you know about her wants?"

"I know that if she's half as important to you as you let on, then she's the most caring person in Portia and she'd want to see you healthy. We all do. Even Xu and Arlo and Antoine, who cares more about you than he lets on."

Your hands went up to cup his face also and he leaned into your touch. "Can you let me help at least? Me? The person you won't get rid of."

He looked away. "Listen, I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't think about it too much," you fashed him a grin. You knew he hated it when you used his own words against him.

"So, Higgins?" You waited for his answer. He pulled your hands away and pulled you into a deep kiss.

"I'm not in the right mind for those questions."

"Let's go get Xu."

"Not tonight, I'll go tomorrow."

"Higgins."

"Not tonight," he said more firmly. "I want you to stay the night."

"Higgins I-," you couldn't spend a night with him. That was what lovers did.

"For one night? Can you pretend? Can you do that? Can you pretend that everything's alright?"

You could pretend yes. You could pretend that you were lovers. "Yes, Higgins, I can."

Then his lips were on your neck, and you swore he was crying and you pretended that he was whispering sweet nothings to you. You'd listen to those sweet little lies all day long. Telling yourself that he loved you as you rubbed your thighs together. Letting him drag you about his room. Lips shyly placed parted as subtle gasps slipped through freely.

His fingers were on your belt in an instant, but you weren't having that. He tried to control every aspect of his life, he had to learn that he couldn't control everything. You pushed him back on the bed, the surprise on his face nearly worth all the trouble.

There was a sense of guilt in the air. Who was using who? Was he taking advantage of your unwavering loyalty or were you taking advantage of his most primal needs to feed an illusion that you knew would come crashing down one day?

Was your cunt all you could think about at that moment? Yes, the answer was yes. No fluff, no sarcasm or underlining messages. You wanted him to fuck you in the pussy, you wanted everything to be okay for one night. You wanted to be the fool.

He pushed you back onto his bed, less than gracefully pulling the pants off your legs. "What do you want?" He asked you.

What did you want? That was a good question on his part.

His lips were over your pussy. "Well?"

What was shame compared to lust after all?

"I want you to eat me out." That he did. You took his hair in your hands.

He shyly fingered you, like he didn't think he was some sex god. He knew he had a way with the body. His confidence was half of what kept him going every day, the other half is pure ambition. It still felt nice to be treated like a porcelain doll, but you were here to be fucked, not make love. That was what lovers did.

"Come on, make me yours, you said you would that day you showed me you could dance. You fucked this girl didn't you, fuck me like her." You had fond memories of that day, he, on the other hand, seemed mortified, but he did as you said anyways. His head lowered between your thighs. His tongue worked with the passion of a hungry man. He looked up at you with a wink. Your grip tightened and you made to lift off of him to praise him but he kept his head securely in place between your thighs. He hummed while he did it, the vibrations made your toes curl and you held his head tighter.

He waited until your grip loosened to pull back. He lined himself up with your lips and you looked at him he was the prey and you...haha. It made you laugh.

He looked down at you, waiting for your response. You felt untouchable. Knocking this man down a few pegs was like directly injecting heroin into your bloodstream during a sugar rush. His hips quivered as he slowly filled you. He looked near his breaking point.

You thought back to the time on the dock as you took his cock in your hands. How shy you were. Your hands were slippery with lube as you willingly gave him a handjob in public. He seemed so amused, compared to him now. Desperate, running from something, running right into you. You were knocked out of your thoughts to a breathy moan. Oh yeah.

He fucked into you at a brutal pace. You laughed slightly, making him dig his nails into your hips. You loved the feeling of the blankets rubbing your back as he fucked you. His hand around your throat made your vision swim but you couldn't care, even when you came so hard your arm locked around his body and you could feel him laughing into your neck as he came himself, biting into your collarbone.

"Fuck!" He mumbled. "I love you."

You could, however, care about that, because well...you honestly weren't expecting that.


	6. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few chapters left. This one is a bit short but that's because all the words went into the next chapters haha.

Your head hit the pillow. You looked up at him, letting his words mingle on stuffy, sex-scented air. What do you say? What can you say? What do you even need to say? All the words you could ever say were said and yet. 

"Do you really?"

Emotions were wonderfully intricate and unpredictable. 

"Yes."

Without a moment's hesitation. No wavering of his voice, no delay, pause, or faltering. Like it was all he wanted to tell you. If he could, would you let him exclaim his love every day? No. Because he didn't need to say it. It was there, it was there and it was overwhelming and not enough. The words left his mouth, they were out in the sky, past the clouds, blazing to the stars. No, it was too late for him to take it back. 

You touched his cheek and he flinched. "Higgins?"

You half expected him to pull away, to run away, to do something melodramatic and not needed and yet he stayed. He let you hold his face. 

You realized that he was still very much inside of you and very annoyingly hard. "Have you no shame?" You wiggled your hips. 

This was a lover's promise fulfilled. 

What did you do now? Now that you had him. That he felt the same. 

You stared into his dark eyes. 

What now?


	7. Talk To Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty burnt out of inspiration for this story, especially when I realized I could make Higgins a merman or an CEO-type.

"Some nights I talk to myself.  
I said the words that I could say to no one else.  
And some nights I talk in my sleep.  
I said the words I never said when you were with me." - "Talk To Myself" by Avicii.

* * *

Love never works if both parties aren't willing to put in the effort. His exclaim might've well just had been spoken to the wind. It meant nothing because he didn't mean it. Did he? It didn't seem that way. He never changed how he treated you. For better or for worse. Rivals or lovers. 

It was all so very foolish, and yet you found yourself in his bed every night just to be kicked out in the morning. The pain on his face didn't change the meaning of his actions. He had you wrapped around his finger, just as you had him. Something had to change. 

And yet. 

You stared out into the abyss, Higgins liked to sleep in the dark. Were you wrong? Was it love? Or lust? No, you knew you felt love for him. You'd do anything for him. It was him. You let a sigh escape your lips as leaned against his breathing form. You made sure not to move too much lest he wakes up. He was always such a light sleeper. All the words you said to yourself would do much better being directed at him. 

You didn't want to force him, you knew he had trust issues, you still loved him. Yet you realized that he wasn't a child, he was an adult who had to handle his problems the same as others. You couldn't bear the thought of wedlock with him but it was all you wanted. To wanted to bear the weight of his problems, but you knew that he didn't want to bear the weight of yours, and this was where the problem was. 

It was all you thought about until the day broke through the darkness and soon he stirred awake, eyes directly on you. "What are you doing up?" He wiped the sleep from his eyes. 

"We should talk," you blurted, your voice rasped from unuse but not sleep. He pushed himself up. You couldn't go on without saying anything any longer it wasn't fair to you or him. 

"I was thinking the same thing," he said, reaching out towards his box of letters for the one on top. 

You wanted the same head over heels love you had for him before. When he raised that liquor to your lips with the glimmer of something more in his eyes. But this, this, what was this? What were you even trying to say? You could question yourself until nightfall and you'd never have a satisfactory answer. 

"She," he unfolded the letter, pushing it towards you but you didn't take it. "One of my sisters fell sick and she wants me to come back."

"So, will you go?" You said too casually, almost dismissively. 

He quirked a brow. "Of course."

"Then go," you said with even more venom than you thought you had. 

"Where is this coming from?" He sounded genuinely confused and worried and hurt and you could almost feel yourself melt back into his arms. 

"It's been building up since the award's ceremony," you blurted and then clapped a hand over your mouth. 

"What has?"

You turned away from him, still recovering from the shock. 

"What? What has?"

You didn't answer.

"Fucking what has?"

"This! This, Higgins! You act like you're ashamed of me."

"If I don't want to parade my business out in public then—."

"This isn't about your fear of PDA," you yelled. His mouth snapped shut as he looked at your face. The tiredness that had been building up, and not because you didn't get any sleep. "This is about your fear of commitment."

"I don't—!" His voice rose. 

"Yes, you do! That's fine if you do but you can't keep stringing me along like this! I need honesty, Higgins. Honesty!"

"About what?"

"You know what."

"Do I? Do I?"

"Oh, fuck you! I can't believe you!" You barked at him. 

"I can't believe you, I told you my sister was sick!"

You crumpled a little at that. That wasn't your finest moment. "I'm sorry."

You both stared at each other, angry, awkward breaths permeated the silence. 

"If you go back out there who knows when you'll come back," you mumbled. 

"I'll come back," he murmured. More silence, the deafening, thick, tense kind.

"Higgins, do you love me?" You looked him in his eyes. He hesitated that time, the post-orgasm confidence completely lost here. That's all you needed to know. You stood up, dressing quickly. 

"Wait!"

"No, Higgins, I won't. I can't. What about the way I feel?"

He stopped, holding your shoulders in his hands, his eyes darted to the letter on the bed. "She wants me to move back. She says there's a good job for me, carpentry. Not far off from being a Builder."

You sighed. Portia is not his home. Never was, probably never will be. 

You knew he never loved being a Builder. He liked the money, he liked the recognition, he liked being praised for his work, he even liked making things, but he never felt anything towards the job itself or at least the fact that it's in Portia, which is a place he very obviously didn't feel at home at. So, what was he leaving behind? It wasn't friends, or family, or even a particular preference for the climate and landforms around Portia. No, the only thing keeping him in Portia, to be frank, is you.

"It's your choice, Higgins."

His eyes flickered towards you and then his letter. You knew what chance you had if he was going to choose between you and his mother. 

You nodded. "It's your choice." You flopped back down on the pillow. No, it's best not to look at him now. 

You felt the anger flare in your chest. "How horribly unsatisfying." 

**Author's Note:**

> another fucking multi-chapter wip because I'm shameless.


End file.
